I was introduced to 20 lines by Detroit Writer Lynn Crawford during a workshop at the room project. Harry Matthews a beloved author and friend of hers recommended the practice of writing 20 lines a day. This is my stab at the exercise.

On the steps of a mosque, a woman sits between two men. This woman, an unnamed She, is draped in black. On one side of her heart-shaped face, an inky wing juts from her eyelid and her cheeks are blushed. She is staring to her left. To the right when she looks, her face is a clean slate and her eyes are soft with compassion.

You don’t know when it started to affect you, but you can never think about yourself without thinking about it. Surviving a thing, is becoming that thing. Entrenching yourself in that terribleness to overcome it. Many get lost in it, because it hurts less to hurt more.